


A Fantastic Death Abyss

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Series: Now It's Dark AU [6]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Banter, Character Turned Into Vampire, Comedy, Crossover, F/M, Madness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 12:10:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5828047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike has woman problems. And he's evil. Part of the Now It's Dark AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fantastic Death Abyss

**Author's Note:**

> \+ + +  
> “I’ve lain with the devil  
> Cursed God above  
> Forsaken Heaven  
> To bring you my love–” PJ Harvey  
> \+ + +

Harmony has any number of problems. I would be the first to list them. She’s a stunning half-wit with neither a sense of humor, a lust for the kill, or an original personality. But God or Satan knows that she’s an incredible, mind-boggling, cock-swelling good lay.

If only I could escape the post-coital blatherfest.

“Spikey, baby, what’s a good D name?” she asks, examining her fingernails.

“Dementia? DeLorean? Difficult?” I ask, trying to get a little sleep. If I stay up too late, I miss Passions, and the Timmy storyline is to die for these days. “Doll? Dimwit?”

“Don’t be stupid,” she says, tapping her fingers on the bedspread. “I was thinking of changing my name to Donna, but Donna sounds too much like my aunt.”

“Why’s that?” I ask.

“Her name was Donna.”

Ba-dum-ching. OK, that’s quite enough of Harmony’s Homestead for the night. I’ll take my chances on the couch. At least then, if I think of certain bitchy blonde slayers, I won’t be in danger of sharing that information with certain moronic blonde vampires.

“Where are you going?”

“The couch.”

“Not until we figure out a good D name!” Harmony squawks. She pouts her little pout, reminding me that there is another reason to keep Harmony around the homestead. “I wish that I could choose a P name. Then I’d pick a name off Charmed. But no, it has to be a D.”

Pout be damned. I really need to get rid of Harmony. Her voice makes the back of my neck rise up in little bumps and grit my teeth. I cannot stand another night of prattle from this preening, babbling– wait a second. D name?

“What the hell do you want to change your name for, anyway?” I ask. “I mean, Harmony’s a stupid name and all, but like you say, there’s only so many good names that start with D.”

Methinks my spidey sense is tingling. Something is rotten in the Dale– more than usual, that is.

“You know,” Harmony says in that insufferably snooty tone she takes whenever she knows something I don’t, “If you weren’t so busy stalking the Slayer, maybe you might hear a few things.”

“And if you weren’t so busy flapping your jaws, I could hear them,” I reply. “Be a darling, Harm, and tell me what the hell is going on.”

Harmony wrinkles her nose and tries to pout, but finally spits it out.

“There’s a new girl gang of vampires in town,” she says. “They’re really super cool and SO powerful and they’re going to kill the Slayer.”

Oh, yes. “And why are the Vampirettes going to succeed when the Master himself failed?”

Harmony thinks about this. You can actually see the wheels turning in her head. They’re rusty and slow. Finally, she shrugs.

“I don’t know. All I know is that I was talking to Big Benny and he said that one of these vamps was made by the Master, but that she’s not even the most powerful one. And the most powerful one is like, five foot two and out of her mind. He says he saw her tear a guy open behind the Bronze. Everyone is totally joining up with them.”

Oh, bloody hell. It sounds like we’ve got another coven of wannabes who spend far too much time watching the telly and reading Anita Blake. They probably thought the Hellmouth was a “cool” place to hang. Silly cows.

“Who’s everyone?”

“Um– Big Benny. Um, a lot of people. Anyone who’s anyone in the vampire community,” Harmony says. “Can we go meet with them? Please? Big Benny says that tonight’s Vampire Night at the Bronze and I just really really want to go, but everyone’s still mad at me for that whole minion thing. I need protection.”

I shake my head. Oh, well. Maybe I can ask someone to tape Passions for me. Besides, maybe the Double D gang will take Harmony off my hands and I can finally get some sleep at night.

When we get to the Bronze, I discover that this mysterious Benny is right. It is Vampire Night and that’s just bizarre to me. Buffy should be all over this, but there are all sorts of creatures of the night, roaming around free and finding victims to feed on. I don’t know what to make of this. These aren’t wannabes.

“Oh, my God,” Harmony twitters next to me. “This is so cool. We’re on a date with other vamps around. Oh, Spikey, isn’t it great?”

“Bugger off,” I say, pushing her aside and disappearing into the extremely mixed crowd. My spidey-sense is flashing a major red alert. Evil is a-brewing and I’m not involved. This is a bad thing.

“Excuse me, little boy,” someone with a tired drawl asks. “But aren’t you Spike?”

“That’s my name, and who are you?” I ask, turning around. “And what is your business with me?”

Shit. Holy shit. This one’s so powerful that it’s practically hovering in the air around her. She’s really young, too. Last month, she was alive. I can smell the life on her. I can smell the death on her, too. It’s intoxicating.

“Come on, Billy the Bloody,” she says coolly. “We have things to discuss.”

“You’re the new one in town, eh?” I ask, refusing to move until I get a better look. I don’t want to go into this situation blind. New One’s short and slender to the point of being delicate. She’s pale, dainty, far too refined to be a real killer. In fact, she reminds me a little of Dru. “A tender young morsel, from the looks of it. I bet you went down real smooth and easy for your sire. Or do you remember?”

She sneers at me, reaching out and pulling me close enough to smell the soft, warm skin on her neck. With the other arm, she clasps me around the waist, pinning her hips to mine.

“In the alley out back is a boy waiting for me to come out and finish him off. He’s seventeen years old. One of those water polo boys completely made up of lean muscle and sweet, pure, young blood that’s gone before you have time to savor it. Like a fine wine or a box of Godiva chocolate,” she purrs, pressing against me close and tight so that I can see that boy in my head, with lithe hips and strong thighs.

“He’s out back?” I whisper. “Still alive?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs back. God, she smells good. She’s so damn hot and wicked and ripe. “You can see it in your head, can’t you? How it was? He thought I was too old for him, but he was excited. He kept stumbling all the way out. If he was a girl, he would have giggled.”

This is a dangerous game I’m playing here. The idea of seeing her smile at him with her swollen lips, the promise of ecstasy in her half-open baby blues– I’m getting hungry. Not for blood, fuck that, but for the satisfaction of the kill, the all-encompassing delight of hearing a warm heart stop. And I know I can’t do anything about it.

“You remember the way it feels? How they moan and whimper and rub up against you?” she asks, her whispers getting harder, hotter, crazier. “How they start to pant? They can feel your unnaturalness pressed up next to them, and the death staring them right in the face. It makes them so hot and sweet, though. You know what I mean, don’t you? He was still pumping his tight little hips against mine even though I had him pinned up against a cold brick wall, sucking the blood out of his body until he was dizzy.”

Shit. I need to kill and I need to kill soon. The way she keeps talking, I can feel the fresh human blood under her skin, heating her up as she shimmys against me.

“There’s a little of him left on my finger,” she says, tilting her head awkwardly to look up at me. “Wanna taste?”

I’m lost.

“I want the whole thing,” I whisper. “Take me wherever you’re going.”

She immediately lets go of me. “All right, then. To the secret lair.”

“What about the boy?” I ask as we slide through the crowds of the Bronze like a hot knife through butter. “Aren’t we going to him?”

“Fuck him,” she says casually. “I have something better at home.”

We disappear into the night, and the world inside my head’s buzzing with anticipation. I know that the New One will work around this ruddy chip. The taste of fresh human blood is going to be mine tonight. It’s incredible. Whoever told Harmony about this new vampire gang is a saint. I’d kiss Big Benny if I could.

“Hey,” I say as we stumble deeper into the woods. “What’s your name? My girl had a big to-do about finding a D name to fit in–”

“Dana,” she says calmly. “I hate the name, though. I’m thinking of changing it. Maybe to Rogue. Or Vampirella.”

“Are you mad?” I ask as we turn another corner and come upon the entrance to a nice cave. “Vampirella?”

“Not really. I guess Dana works for now, doesn’t it?” she asks, a wicked smile glittering on her face. She leads me into the cavern, which is well lit and heated by space heaters. I don’t know how. “It’s not the Ritz for damn sure, but this is just temporary anyway.”

My eye goes past all the trappings to the real prize. The something better is asleep on a bed, probably dreaming of pretty things. I’m ready to jump on her, but Dana holds me back.

“Chip, remember?” she asks, tilting her head. “We don’t need to get ouchies from being hasty.”

“What do you suggest then?”

“Well, I could spoon feed her to you,” she says, highlighting the lascivious intent of that game. “But what if–oh, what if–I could make it so that nasty nasty chip went away? What if you could bend over that luscious, hot creature over there and eat her up just like the Big Bad Wolf?”

Heavy temptation. Except that it’s not possible.

“What are you, the Vampire Brain Surgeon?” I ask. “Come on, let’s just do this.”

“What’s the big rush, Spike?” a familiar, lilting voice asks. Bloody hell. I know that voice. But she’s been dead four years. It’s impossible. “Why don’t you ask little sister here where she got her M.D.? It’s got to be better than being a bigger eunuch than Angelus. Angelus has at least tasted human blood this year.”

I spin on my heels. Darla smiles back at me, as blonde, pompous, and cold as she was in her unlife. I can’t figure it out. Angel dusted Darla. I know that. She can’t be standing here.

“But you’re dead,” I said.

“Things change,” she growls. “I’m alive, and Dana can get the chip out your skull, Bloody Boy. Scary, isn’t it? You might have to decide to be a real man again.”

“She’s a miracle worker,” Drusilla calls to me, emerging out of the darkness. My God, I’ve been so fucking set up. Dana stares at me with lustful diffidence. “Isn’t she just lovely, Spike? My own special little girl. She helped me remake our family! And she can get all the nasty nasty demons in your head out.”

I stare at the three of them. Darla and Drusilla are more powerful than ever, but they’re nothing next to the sheer, pulsing evil that drips from the redhead. She’s clever in a way that few vampires ever manage. It took her all of fifteen minutes and a lot of whispering to get me here, completely at the mercy of her minions. And God help me, I still want to run to that bed and feed with her.

“Not all of them,” she correctly meticulously, narrowing her eyes and going to game face. “Just the ones we want to go away.”

She rises on tiptoe and her blood-scented breath tickles my ear.

“Be a good boy, Spike. In just seven days, I can make you a man.”

The Master never had this power, I realize. Not the Master, not Angelus, not any vampire I’ve even been near. This one could take down the Slayer. She understands the fine line between duty, love, and death. She knows how it feels to be strong and to lose anyway. This one has something in her Buffy’s never seen. I need to get out of here–

But I can’t. And I don’t think I would even if I could.

Drusilla smiles at me again. “Are you hungry?” she asks.

“Famished,” I reply. “Absolutely famished.”


End file.
